In the northeast of Middenland, stuck in the mountains roughly between the grand city of Middenheim and the Brass Keep, lies the village of Sokh.  Sokh is a cesspool of a place, which made it just like every other village inhabited by ogres in the empire.

Growing up as an Ogre isn’t easy.   Gezalt spent most of his childhood wondering where the next punch or kick was going to come from.   His father would give him the worst beatings, nearly as bad as the ones his mother would give.  He was very lucky young ogre to have such parents, who did their best to make him tough and strong.

Being the oldest of 4 children meant he did more dishing than receiving when it came to sibling fighting.  That is until his sisters realized that together they could do more damage; maybe not enough to win the fight, but enough to leave lasting bruises. His sisters would tell every ogre who would listen where those bruises came from, insinuating that Gezalt got beat up by little girls.  This would infuriate Gezalt beyond reason.   Although 9 years younger than him, his only brother Derghbarth practically grew up in the maw pits.  Derghbarth would fight (and lose to) just about anyone who would accept.  If nothing else, he learned how to take a beating.  Hence, Gezalt eventually lost interest in beating up on his brother.

Gezalt did have one good friend, in his buddy Kuzek.  Kuzek was the son of the village chieftain.  There wasn’t a move Gezalt made without Kuzek by his side, and vice versa.  The chieftain, Nuggizett, would often blame Gezalt for anything involving his son, and as such Gezalt had yet another set of fists commanding his respect and obedience.

The years passed by, and Gezalt and Kuzek remained good friends.  Gezalt and Kuzek both eventually met their own cows and were married.  Before long, each had a family of their own.  Gezalt worked for the fire-builders, and would every day take his axe to the woods and cut down trees, dragging them back to the village where they could be properly pruned, cut, and put to use for different purposes.  Gezalt didn’t care to understand much of it.  He went to the forest, cut down some trees, brought them back, and then went for some more.  He knew the wood he brought would be used to build fires, but that was about as far as he needed to know.  Gezalt never was much of a thinker.  He even had problems remembering the grand tales of their people, and would always fumble the stories when his turn to recite the tellings.

It was the summer of his 41st year when things changed.  He was out in the woods, looking for a prime tree to chop down.  He wanted to find a really good specimen because, well, he forgot.  But he knew he wanted a good one today.  With his mind trying to remember why he needed a better tree, he wandered haphazardly through the woods, paying no attention to where his feet led him.

He stopped abruptly, nearly falling into the hole before him.  It was huge, nearly 100 feet across, and round.  It seemed like a perfectly round hole carved straight down into the ground.  To anyone who knew better, this was obviously a sinkhole, but to Gezalt it could be nothing but one of the many homes of the Great Maw.

He could practically feel the maw reaching out to him and pulling him towards the dark depths of the hole as he back-peddled.  Both scared for his life, but at the same time immensely awed by his find, Gezalt found himself standing and staring at the sprawling hole before him, as if it would suddenly come to life and reach out for him.

It was a few moments before Gezalt realized that he was running as fast as his legs would carry him.  He ran back towards the village, right past some of his fellow workers who watched him run by without a tree in tow, thinking him stupid for forgetting to bring one.  He was just outside the village itself, with the first house in sight that he slid to a stop.  The Great Maw.   It was here, nearby, so close to the village.   He had to tell everyone, although they wouldn’t believe him.

His mind flashed back 20 years to an incident where his sisters tricked him into believing he was growing a second penis.  In his early twenties, his belly had already grown large enough to where he could no longer inspect the region for himself.  Completely falling for the trick, Gezalt ran through the village dropping his pants to everyone he saw, showing them how he was destined for greatness, and be the target of loving adoration of every cow in the village.  Only it wasn’t true.  He spent months of ridicule from the others in his village and had believed he would be alone forever.  But that was before he met ... Kuzek!

Yes, he would show Kuzek.  And Kuzek would tell everyone he was right.  Now to find Kuzek.  Kuzek, as the son of the chieftain, was in charge of the village militia.  Militia was a kind word, giving that it consisted of the 10 or so other ogres in the village who could find no other trade.  The militia would practice daily, spending the mornings napping near the stables, and the afternoons drinking behind the tavern.  Gezalt sometimes wished he would spend more time practicing like the militia did.

Making his way to the tavern, Gezalt found Kuzek relieving himself on the wall in front of the tavern.  Apparently, he was taking a moment from drinking with his militia, and didn’t want to make urine where they were drinking, so went to find a more appropriate spot (for an ogre, anyways).

It took nearly 20 minutes for Gezalt to convince Kuzek to accompany him back out into the woods.  He was so excited that he was unable to put what he wanted to say into words.  He kept saying “Maw” over and over, and telling Kuzek to “come and see”.

Kuzek finally agreed, and they were on their way out of the village when stopped by a younger ogre named Vargrok.  Vargrok was sent by the chieftain to find Kuzek and bring him back.  Kuzek told the smaller ogre that if he knew what was best for him, he would return to his father and report that Kuzek was nowhere to be found.  He would come when he was ready.  Vargrok quickly ran off.

A short time later, they were standing before the hole in the ground.  Kuzek held the same awe for it as Gezalt had.  “The Great Maw”, Kuzek said, with Gezalt nodding in aggrement.  They both knelt by the edge and tried to see the bottom, but by a trick of the shadows, could not see that the hole bottomed out a mere 35-40 feet down.  It seemed bottomless.

Suddenly, Kuzek stood up, bracing himself and yelling aloud, “Great Maw!  I am Kuzek, son of Nuggizett.  Leader of militia.  Bedder of many cows.  Next-to-be chieftain of Sokh.  Here me! Know my name!”

Gezalt was mortified.  One does not call out to the Great Maw.  He turned to Kuzek, and asked him to stop.  “Do not anger the Maw!”, he said to his friend.

Kuzek stopped his yelling to look down at Gezalt.   With a grin on his face, he yelled again, keeping his eyes on Gezalt the whole time. “Gezalt wants me to stop.  Gezalt don’t want to anger Maw.  Gezalt is good friend and brother.  Kuzek pick Gezalt over Maw any day.”

Kuzek stood smiling on the edge of the hole, looking down to where Gezalt was kneeling.  He was apparently happy with himself, showing his kinship to Gezalt in front of the Great Maw.

Gezalt was speechless.  Kuzek did not just say those things to Great Maw, he could not have!  He opened his mouth to say something when he noticed the smile on Kuzek’s face begin to falter.  It wasn’t until the ground beneath Kuzek collapsed into the hole did Gezalt realize what was happening.  Without a word, Kuzek vanished into the depths of the hole and was gone.

The Great Maw had taken him.

Gezalt sat down, not knowing how to process what he just saw.  His best friend since childhood had just been taken and consumed by The Great Maw.  What seemed like hours passed before Gezalt could get up the nerve to stand and move near the edge of the pit to peek inside.  But as he came close to the edge, the ground beneath him began to sink and he jumped backwards.  The Great Maw wanted him too!

He turned to head back towards the village.  He so wanted to go back and be with his wife, Gezenni, and forget that this day even happened.  But, he now realized that he was cursed, and marked by the Maw.  If he went back to the village, he would be bringing doom to everyone there.  Plus, Kuzek was gone, devoured by the Maw.  He knew that when Kuzek didn’t return, that Vargrok would tell the chieftain that he was with Gezalt before he vanished.  Even if Gezalt explained what happened, and showed the chieftain himself to the location of the pit before him, he would still be found to blame.  Causing the death of the chieftain’s son, of the next-to-be chieftain; there could not be a worse crime.  Gezalt knew that such a crime would not go unpunished, and the severity of such a crime would spill on to members of his family.  His parents, his wife, and his children would all suffer greatly at the chieftain’s rage.

In a rare moment of clarity, Gezalt realized his only course of action.  He had to leave Sokh forever.  If he also failed to return, it would be assumed that whatever fate befell Kuzek had also befallen Gezalt.

Picking up his axe, which was in the same spot that he dropped it since he first found the pit that morning, Gezalt looked one more time to the void that had swallowed not only his friend, but his whole life.   He could not go back to his home, for fear of what might happen to his family.  They were better off if Gezalt was dead.
Gezalt picked a direction away from the village and began walking, wanting to put as much distance as he could between him and his old life.  He eventually happened upon a road, and turned to follow it to the west.  He followed this road for days, eating only what he could kill along the way.  He passed no one on the road and in fact, saw no one at all until he reached a small town.

The people in the town were mostly human and reacted to his presence in with hate and distaste.  Gezalt couldn’t care less.  He wasn’t interested in making friends, just moving on.
“Hey, Ogre”, came a voice from ahead.  Looking up from the ground, Gezalt didn’t see anything at first until it spoke up again.  “Why, you’re a big one, aren’t ya?”
Looking down, Gezalt came face to face with the first Halfling he had ever met.

“Blibby Longtoes, at your service”, he said, bowing to the lumbering ogre.  “Welcome to the town of Arenburg.  We don’t get a lot of your type around here.  Well, to be honest, we don’t see any of your type around here.”  The Halfling was talking at a mile a minute, while Gezalt just stared at what he thought was just a VERY SMALL human.  There were a small number of humans who lived in and around Sokh, but this one was somehow different.

“This is my inn, here,” the Halfling continued, “the best inn in all of Arenburg”.  He smiled proudly, but his smile faded a bit when he realized that the ogre wasn’t registering any understanding of what he was saying.

“My friend”, he said, a little more slowly and softly, “my name is Blibby.  What is your name”?

Gezalt looked down at the Halfling and responded, “Gezalt.  I am Gezalt.”

“Well met, Gezalt.  Are you travelling alone?”, asked Blibby.

“Yes, Gezalt is alone”, Gezalt said, looking over his shoulder as if he could still see his old life behind him.

“Well my huge friend”, said Blibby, “the folks around here don’t take kindly to your kind, but I on the other hand know a good soul when I see one.  Come with me into my stables.  I really don’t have a place for you inside the inn, or even a door that you would fit through.  But you can spend the night in my stables, they are warm and dry.  And I can give you some food.  It’s not a lot, but whatevers left over from dinner is yours.  Tomorrow you must be on your way, I’m afraid, but there’s no reason for you not to have a good night’s sleep before you move on”.

With that Blibby jumped down off of the stool he was standing on, making him appear even smaller than he first seemed.  Gezalt followed him into the stables where he made a soft spot by pushing two stacks of hay together.  Blibbly disappear inside and came back out with a huge tray heaped with meats and breads. While Gezalt ate, Blibby talked and talked. Gezalt found himself strangely comfortable with Blibby, and found himself listening in earnest trying to keep up with the words coming quickly out of Blibby’s mouth.   Gezalt found out that Blibby wasn’t a small man, but a Halfling, and that there were more like him in the world.  He also learned of a huge city to the south that would be more accepting to his kind; a city where he might be able to find a new life for himself.  The Halfling was still chattering when Gezalt dozed off.

When Gezalt awoke the next day, he ate the leftovers from breakfast before Blibby set him on the road, heading south.  Gezalt was sad to leave his new, small friend, but was also anxious to move on.  He was heading to a place that he might actually be able make a new life.  He was heading to a place called Middenheim.

Epilogue:

Hours after Gezalt lost his whole life to The Great Maw, a loud grunt escaped from the hole in the woods.  It was followed by another, and yet another.  Before long, a huge hand appeared over the edge of the hole and Kuzek pulled himself up and over the edge with a loud roar.  He lie on his back for a moment, catching his breath before getting to his feet.  He looked around for Gezalt, wondering why his friend would leave him unconscious at the bottom of what was only a hole in the ground.  He shouted out for his companion, “GEZALT!”  After waiting a short while and calling to his friend a few more times, Kuzek turned and headed back towards the village.

...

Gezalt is an Ogre Pitfighter I played in an RPG called Warhammer Fantasy Role Play.  Ogres are big dumb brutes, and above is the backstory I designed to explain why Gezalt would find himself in the city of Middenheim, down in the pits fighting for money.  Halflings and Ogres have a natural affinity in WFRP, which I alluded to in his meeting of Bibbly Longtoes.

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